


Back at Base

by electronic_elevator



Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Crying, Diapers, Dubious Consent, I played w the fact that Heist!Mark makes the viewer make all his choices in canon, Mark doesn't enjoy this but Y/N's a good friend so it works out fine, POV Second Person, Punishment, Shame, but it is actually meant to be AHWM!Y/N, diaper messing, dubcon, meaning it could be read as reader insert, messing, or at least Heistsona insert, regret on the part of Y/N, setting is the ''base'' alluded to in Heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electronic_elevator/pseuds/electronic_elevator
Summary: Mark keeps clogging the shared toilets at base, which would be alright if he cleaned up after himself… which he doesn’t. Y/N is sick of it, but has a plan they think will teach him a lesson.
Relationships: Heist!Mark & Heist!Y/N, Heist!Mark/Heist!Y/N
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Back at Base

Mark knew he had something to fear as soon as you stormed into the room.   
“Mark,” you said, annoyance plain in your voice. 

“W-what is it?” he asked nervously, setting aside his coffee and the papers he’d been rifling through. 

“You fucked up the goddamn toilet again!” You complained. 

He immediately winced at your lack of subtlety, reacting indignantly: “W—well, I’m sorry—“

“No, no, I don’t wanna hear it. I’ve heard it before; this is a nearly daily thing, Mark; you’re not the only one who lives here!” 

“It’s not my fault,” he insisted. “I’m even doing the thing you asked, with throwing away the toilet paper instead of flushing it.” 

“Maybe it’s not your fault that you clog it, but it’s your fault that you don’t check for it or fix it, and end up leaving your messes for others — namely, me — to find.” 

Mark at least had the decency to be embarrassed by his actions. “I forget! And sometimes it’ll fix itself if you leave it for a while!” 

You threw up your arms. “Yeah, because _I_ come by and do it!” 

Mark began to argue about what he’d actually meant when you cut him off. “No, no. You’re losing your toilet privileges.”

That stopped him dead. He gave you a maximally confused look. “W… what?” 

“You’re not allowed to use the toilet anymore. If you can’t use it properly you can’t use it at all.” 

“What do you mean? Y/N, c’mon, what else am I supposed to do, go outside?” He laughed at the perceived absurdity. 

“No, I won’t make you do _that._ Come with me.” 

Mark listened, standing up and following you to your room, where you’d laid out a plastic mat over one side of your bed, next to a canister of baby powder, a box of wipes, and an adult diaper. 

Mark noticed these things immediately. “W— W— _No_ way, Y/N, I refuse. This is absolutely ridiculous. I am not… using a diaper.”

“You sure are,” you said, pushing him forward. “This’ll get you to learn your lesson, I think.”

“But Y/N!! Look, you’ve made your point! I get it, I’ve been slacking, but I’ll do better, okay? Be reasonable here,” he complained.

“Nope,” you said. Reasonable wasn’t as effective. You’d gotten him to the bed. He usually listened to you, so you knew you could probably do this despite his indignation. Sure enough, when you nudged him to lay down, he did so, although he was bright red by now. “Don’t you know if you do the crime you’ve gotta do the time?” 

“We’re _professional criminals,_ Y/N!” he retorted, almost yelling.

You snickered, beginning to undo his pants.

“Can’t I use the bathroom before you do this?” Mark whined. 

You knew you’d caught him before he’d had his morning poop, which was planned. It’s not like you wanted to _keep_ him diapered — you KNEW he’d end up needing your help changing, and realistically that was going to be worse than fixing the clogged toilet all the time. As such, you were aiming for maximum effectiveness in the least amount of time. (And he thought _he_ was the brains in this partnership…) Since you’d accosted him when he’d nearly finished his coffee, he was probably already feeling the urge to go. “The whole point of this is you’re not allowed to use the toilet,” you reminded him, pulling down his pants and underwear. He began refusing to meet your gaze. “C’mon, now. Lift up, I’ve gotta put this under you.” 

He complied, so you powdered him thoroughly and taped him up. 

“There. Don’t try to take it off,” you warned. 

Mark sat up, experimentally. “This feels weird,” he complained, then hopped up to standing so he could replace his pants over top. “Really weird!! I can’t, like, close my legs.” 

“Yeah, dude, that’s the padding.” 

“I— what am I supposed to do now?” 

“What were you working on? We were supposed to get new intel on the next location, today, right? Is that what you were reading?” 

“Yeah,” Mark grumbled. 

“Well, I’ll help.” 

So, the two of you went back to his room and read up on the security systems protecting your next target. You left the changing supplies here, knowing you’d need them soon. 

———

Sure enough, after a few minutes, Mark was squirming. He had (perhaps wisely) not gone back to his coffee. 

You couldn’t resist teasing him a little. “What’s the matter, Mark?” 

He shot you a death glare. “I’ve— gotta go,” he huffed, wiggling back in his seat. He was well past the point of urgency that would have sent him to the bathroom under normal circumstances. 

“Well, nobody’s making you hold it.” 

“Y/N, you can’t expect me to sit here and shit my pants for no reason,” he said, the anger in his voice contrasting with an undertone that made him sound like he was begging. His stomach was cramping now; his body wasn’t used to being denied like this. He clenched back against it, which didn’t help the urgency at all. 

“It’s not for no reason, it’s because you can’t be trusted to use the toilet. So you don’t really have an alternative.” 

Still, he continued to fight it. He threw down the document he had been reading, focusing on holding instead. “I’ve really gotta go, Y/N, please; this isn’t funny.” He knew if he didn’t convince you soon, he’d be messing himself. And he really didn’t want to do that, he hadn’t done that since he was potty trained!

You lowered your own papers, watching him. It was kinda funny, actually. You knew he wasn’t gonna sustain permanent harm from doing this, so you weren’t worried about him, and you sort of enjoyed his squirming and uncomfortable expression as payback for the cleaning you’d had to do. 

Then, he gasped. His body had decided it was time to take matters into its own hands, and he lost control, hot mess piling up against him. He stood up, leaning his weight onto the desk in trying to avoid it. The new position only hastened his decline, immediately pressing out more of his load. He teared up immediately, as a visceral reaction to the cramping pain and the shame.

“Y/N,” he whined, sounding pathetic as he continued to mess himself. There was a lot, and he could feel the softer prelude squishing up the back of the diaper as a harder load forced him to bend forward into a partial squat. Of course, with the diaper in the way, he felt it get stuck, and whined, uncomfortably stuck partway done. Mark forced himself to push, screwing his eyes shut. The tears that had been gathering fell down his cheeks, and he felt disgusting, resenting the fact that with this effort it felt like he was messing himself on purpose. Pushing while standing in the weird position caused him to piss a little as well, the front of the diaper growing hot around his dick and only serving to make him messier. He whined again, miserable. “Y/N,” he begged, although he wasn’t sure what he wanted you to do at this point. 

You clucked your tongue, maybe a little sympathetic. “Mark, just finish up, and I’ll help you get cleaned up. 

He opened his eyes, looking sadly at you for a minute, before casting his gaze to the floor and continuing to push. 

He could smell it; it was terrible. There was so much that it was making his pants feel tight; there was a visible bulge in the back already, and he wasn’t done. 

With another push, wetting himself even further, he felt finally empty. He looked pretty defeated, keeping his gaze on the floor. 

“Mark, you done?” 

He nodded, not answering verbally. 

You hesitated, a bit worried this had affected him more than you thought. “Well, let’s go get you cleaned up.” 

He took a step towards you and cringed as he felt the mess smear even further. The swollen padding forced his legs apart and required him to waddle. He teared up again. “I’m… sorry,” he said in a small voice, but continuing to walk. 

“Mark?” 

“What?” he sniffled. 

You hugged him, and he choked out a sob and clung to you. 

“Please help me clean up,” he asked, sounding pathetic. 

“Of course. C’mon, c’mon, we’ll clean you up. I’m sorry, Mark.” Now… you were pretty sure you’d gone too far.

“No,” he mumbled, wiping at his tears. “I’ve been an asshole. I… yeah. I’ll do better, I promise. …But… I can have my toilet privileges back?”

“Yes, of course, Mark,” you breathed, “I think you more than learned your lesson.” 

He nodded against your shoulder, then backed up. “I… wet myself too,” he confessed. 

“Oh, I’m… not surprised. It’s okay.” You’d seen how much he was struggling to go, so it was pretty much inevitable. 

You led him back to your room, and moved the mat from the bed to the floor... as you were now pretty sure it was gonna be a hell of a cleanup. You got his pants off of him while still standing, then said, “Alright, lie down. Don’t worry about it; I’m the one who made you do this.” 

He laid down, cringing at the way it made everything shift and smear against him. You opened the front of the diaper and cut off your own air supply such that you wouldn’t gag and add insult to injury. Yeah, it was a hell of a mess, and both of you knew it. (After all, he wouldn’t have the problem of regularly clogging the toilets if it wasn’t always like this…) 

You got out the wipes and started cleaning him up. Mark stayed quiet, fiddling with the end of his shirt. He looked surprisingly sweet.

You tried to focus on that, and not the rather gross task in front of you.

“Alright, pick yourself up,” you said. He complied, and my god, this was going to take the whole canister of wipes… But you continued, and you still felt bad, so you repeated: “I’m really sorry, Mark; I went too far with this.” 

“I wasn’t listening to you any other way,” he admitted, sounding a little more stable now that he knew you weren’t mad and he was going to be clean and dry again soon. “It’s okay. Thank you for helping me clean up.” 

You looked at his face. He was still blushing, looking far off to the side to avoid the scene at his feet. “Of course I’d help you clean up; it’s my fault and you’re my best friend.”

He smiled, a real smile. 

Tossing the first wipe that had come away clean into the pile in the garbage can, you announced. “Okay, you’re as good as I can get you.” You also wiped down the mat under him before he laid back down on it. 

“But I still feel wet.” 

“That’s the wipes, dude. Oh, do you want me to powder you? That would fix it,” you offered, grabbing at it once you realized it was still within reach. 

It surprised you that that made Mark blush, but he seemed to be ignoring that fact so you didn’t comment. “…Sure,” he agreed.

So you sprinkled powder around his formerly-diapered zone and rubbed it in gently. “Did that fix it?” 

He nodded, still blushing, as he sat up. “Yeah, way better. …Thanks, Y/N.” 

“You really shouldn’t be thanking me after what I put you through.” You handed him his clothes, and he stood up to put them on. 

“Well—” he started, then shook his head. “Nevermind. …Guess we oughta get back to work, huh?” 

You realized you’d done basically no work so far today. Your boss wouldn’t be happy if your duo had nothing to show by sunset. “Yeah, I guess so.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow my nsfw Twitter? :3 18+ only but I’m @electroelevator


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